


Bad poetry and paintings

by Babybabybabygirl



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dipper Pines, Cute, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Good Brother Wirt, Hurt Dipper Pines, I’m bad at tagging, M/M, Mild Smut, More tags to be added, Non-Graphic Smut, One-Sided Attraction, Romantic Fluff, Sad Wirt, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow To Update, Smut, Sweet, Teenage Dipper Pines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wirt's POV, Wirt's Poetry, one-sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babybabybabygirl/pseuds/Babybabybabygirl
Summary: Wirt is a 19-year-old boy who spends his free time writing pages and pages of poetry.His biggest inspiration?The most beautiful boy in his neighborhood, Dipper Pines, who also happens to be his 15-year-old brother's tutor.Which also happens to mean that he's often hanging out at his house.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Wirt, Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

•••  
Oh, how lovely you are.

The way the sun shines just for you.  
Your smile as beautiful as any garden.

And you smiled, not at me, but at the world, and I knew.

How lovely you are.

The way the flowers bloom just for you.  
I just knew you were the reason the world spun.

Oh, how lovely you are.  
The way the constellation line up for you. 

And how I just wanted you

Oh, how lovely you are.

Oh, how lovely...  
•••

Wirt groaned, crumbling up the piece of paper in his clammy hands. He tossed it over to the trash can next to his already messy desk and pulled at his hair whenever the paper landed just right in front of it. He's written a lot better, but he was just off his game.

He had just one day to write this poem, even though it was just for a participation grade, a free writing assignment his teacher assigned last week, he wanted it to be good. It was the first grade he'd get for this semester. He would be reading the poem in front of the whole class. 

Which wasn't a big deal, poetry and writing were one of Wirts best subjects. He was already use to reading his work out loud, he felt confident in them, he wrote from the heart. 

But that was just the problem. 

It all came from the heart, so it was all personal. No one in his creative writing class would know who is poems were about, he wrote it in a way where the descriptions are so vague, it could be about anyone. What truly mattered was that he knew what every line meant, why every word was picked. 

So reading it wouldn't be a problem, right? 

There was nothing different about this semester, same class, same teacher, same old students- well- almost the same students. 

On the first day of Wirts senior year, he walked into his second-period class early. He always arrived super early for Mrs. Tally's class, he helped her lay out her plans for the day, helped her pick out poems to write, and helped her with new assignments. He would also give her his advice when it came to grading other student's works. 

You could say he was pretty comfortable in Mrs.Tally's class. He walked right in, no use in knocking in the door, his arrival was expected, he opened the door and walked over to the desk scattered in papers. The first day of school and her desk was already a mess.

"Wirt! Perfect timing!" Mrs. Tally smiled. She was your typical creative writing teacher, Mrs. Tally wore dresses down to the floor, they always had slits in the right side, chunky sandals, long cardigans, comically large, round glasses, and her hair was always messy and up in a ponytail, pens, and pencils stuck in there. 

She was conveniently attractive, in Wirts's opinion, if she didn't dress like she picked her clothes out in the dark and actually did her hair, she could definitely be close to a model. She had the body and face. "I want to get your opinion on this week's assignment."

She talked about how she had gotten a few new students, and that she wanted to make them feel comfortable with the class. Mrs. Tally wanted to make the assignment free writing, no rules, no patterns, nothing. Just writing. 

Wirt thought it was a good idea. He remembered how nervous he was his junior year, waking into a class full of talented writers. So of course, he agreed to it. It would also give the students who have been in this class a chance to relax before things got big. 

They sat and talked about Wirts Christmas break, he didn't do much. He stayed in his room and wrote. On the occasion, he'd take his brother and his friends out to get pizza, or he'd spend the day standing in the kitchen like a creep watching his bother and his tutor working on Greg's Christmas break homework. 

The bell had eventually rung and Wirt took his seat in front of Mrs. Tally's desk. He watched as all the familiar faces walked past him, taking their assigned seats, some faces he didn't recognize, others he didn't see at all.That's when it happened. Wirt was getting out his poetry journal and his lucky pen, nothing special really, just a regular black gel pen, from his backpack, he placed them neatly on his table, when he looked up he saw two brown eyes looking right at him. 

Dipper Pines.

The perfect boy next door.

He was wearing his typical blue jeans, white hoodie, red plaid button-up tossed over the hoodie, and black vans. His hair shone in the cool, morning light. Every perfect curl was defined, not a single one was out of place, all Wirt wanted to do was run his hands along those soft curls. 

God. He had amazing style. 

They could both definitely win best dressed.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Dipper walk towards him, the brightest smile glued onto his face. Wirt glanced quickly to the empty seat next to him, his heart beating just a tad bit faster. 

"Oh thank god!" Dipper laughed, placing his journal next to Wirts. "I thought this class was going to be full of seniors I didn't know."

Wirt could feel his face begging to burn, it wasn't like he didn't talk to Dipper, they talked almost all the time when he was tutoring Greg. So why was Wirt acting like a schoolgirl? "Y-yeah...hey dipper." Wirts voice broke, "What are you doing here?" What kind of question was that? 

"I have this class... I signed up for it last semester but to many people signed up before I did." Dipper shrugged, plopping down beside Wirt, "I never see you around the school, that's so weird."

And that's how it was for the whole week. Dipper sitting next to Wirt, looking all cute and perfect. Wirt was having trouble with his writing, he felt so exposed having his muse sitting right next to him. 

Dipper was curious. He always loved solving mysteries and helping others, he had this thing about him that made Wirts mind go wild. 

Dipper was always looking over Wirts shoulder, trying to get tips from him to help with his own writing. Wirt didn't mind, like, at all, he was more than okay with it. But it was hard to write about Dipper when he was right there. Wirt had suddenly felt like a big creep. 

And now he had to write something and read it out to the class.

Wirt sighed, he got up from his desk and picked up the crumpled paper from the floor, opening it up carefully and flatting it out on his chest. He threw his desk drawer open and gently pressed the paper down, along with the other piles of crumbled up poems in the drawer. He slammed it shut when he heard the sound of footsteps running up to his door. Just as the drawer closed, the door swung open. 

"Wirt! Hey, wirt!" Greg ran in, his pencil in one hand and a notebook in the other. 

"Hey, what's up?" 

"We're having trouble with my history work. Could you come down and help?" Greg smiled, holding his hand out and gesturing at Wirt to follow him. 

"We?" Wirt questioned, "is Dipper here ?" 

"Well duh," Greg tolled his eyes, dropping his hand. "It's Wednesday." Wirt dropped his head to his hands, running his hands down his face dramatically. 

"I completely forgot." He whispered loudly, pulling his face down harder. "Nooooo." 

"Come help. Dippers waiting."


	2. Chapter Two

Wirt checked himself out in the mirror. 

He fixed his hair with shakey hands, checked his breath, fixed his shirt, and made sure his pants were presentable. 

"Wirt-"

"Just give me a minute." Wirt swatted a sweaty hand at Greg. 

"You said that five minutes ago, Dipper is still waiting, and you look the same." 

Wirt peeked over to Greg, he was leaning against the door frame, hands crossed against his chest, and an aggravated look on his face. 

Wirt sighed, looking back at the mirror one last time and then jogging over to his brother. Greg rolled his eyes and huffed away from Wirt, fast-walking down the hall and towards the stairs. 

Wirt followed right behind him, almost stumbling over his feet. Greg leaped over the last three steps and ran down to the kitchen, Wirt considered doing the same but retracted on it. He didn't want to bust his face open and embarrass himself. He made it halfway to the kitchen when he heard the sweet, milk honey voice of the cutest boy in the world. He paused his steps so he could better hear him.

"Where's Wirt?" 

He was asking about him. Wow.

"He's probably still trying to make himself look good."

Wirts blood went cold.

"Why would he be doing that?"

"Because he likes-"

Wirt darted the last few steps to the kitchen. "H-hey!" He gasped, trying to act casual, but his composure left the window the second he caught Dipper's gaze. He looked like an oil painting from the early century; soft and full of rosy cheeks. His curls were as beautiful as the sunrise, his golden-brown eyes as golden as ever, the freckles on his face seemed like they had been splattered on with purpose. And that smile, oh goodness, that smile. Wirt felt like a lilypad lying flat on the cool water when he looked at it. "Heard you guys needed help with history." He squeaked. 

Dipper quirked an eyebrow at him; from what Wirt could see, he was wearing a different outfit than the one from school. Instead of his usual flannel jackets, he was wearing a navy sweater with a lavender embroidering. Mabel probably made it for him. "Yeah, we do. Are you okay, dude?"

Wirt hummed, fixing his hunched posture and shrugging. "Oh yeah, I'm perfect. Why do you ask?" The last part came out a tad too suspicious, he glanced over at Greg- who was sitting on the island counter next to Dipper.

"Just cheeking, weirdo." Dipper laughed.

'Oh. My. God.' Wirt thought, 'how much more angelic can he get?'

"Are you gonna help, or just stand there and stare at my tutor?" Greg smirked. Dipper's eyes widened a tiny bit and he turned his head to the open notebook in front of him, and Wirts heart froze.

"O-okay." Wirt decided that the best thing he could do at this moment was to ignore that comment and get to the point of him being down here. "What's the um- the question?"

"W-well, " Dipper stuttered, scratching at the back of his head. "The question is, what is the name of the female pilots during world war two and what did they do with the planes?"

"Oh, that's easy." Wirt perked up, walking over to the counter and leaning down to the notebook. He placed a hand on the counter for support, the other on the back of Dipper's seat. Wirt noticed the intimacy of his stance and quickly backed away. He tried to make it look natural but it was the complete opposite, his hands fidgeting with each other, and his face grew redder when he noticed the small blush on Dipper's face. He was still focused on the paper. "S-so," Wirt coughed, he chose to lean on the counter on the opposite side of Dipper. "Women Airforce Service Pilots, or WASP, for short, and as for what they did," Wirt bit the inside of his cheek when he saw Dipper's eyes glance his, the contact was short, so short Wirt thought he imagined it. "They didn't really fly the planes, they just test drove them to make sure they were okay for the men to take into war."

"WASP," Dipper mumbled, glancing back up at Wirt- but this time the eye contact lasted. Wirt got so caught up in the beauty of Dipper's eyes, he felt like he was the one on the plane. "You're really smart." Dipper's voice came out like thick maple syrup, and boy did Wirt feel like swooning.

"Y-yeah." Was all Wirt could muster up. He didn't know how long they were staring at each other, but Wirt didn't want it to stop. It felt like such an intimate moment between the two. The whole world seemed to disappear; the same way it would in their creative writing class when Wirt would steal glances at Dipper.

"Okay, thank you, Wirt." Greg's voice sounded so distant, so unimportant in this esoteric moment. 

"Did you write the poem?" Dipper smiled, "I'd like to hear it."

"It's uh in my room." Wirt smiled back, forgetting the detail that he, in fact, hadn't written it. 

"Well then let's go get it." 

Wirt heard a record scratch. Everything was back in focus. Wirt gawked, words failing to leave his mouth. He looked over at Greg, who had his face deep in his hands, and then back at Dipper, whose eyes were as wide as the moon. 

How could he say no to those sparkly eyes? "Yeah- yeah okay, let's go. To my room. Us. Yeah." 

Dipper bit his lip, a sad attempt at holding back a giggle. He nodded, his cheeks red. Dipper got up from his seat and stepped towards the stairs. 

Wirt was dead. He had died. 

"Wow." He heard Greg whisper. 

Wirt got up and waddled to Dipper, his heart drumming the most broken beat in the world. The whole way to the room the two boys were silent; Wirt was too busy trying not to break out in gallons of sweat. 

He was just taking his crush up to his room, alone, to read a poem he hadn't written. No big deal, he'd just have to rummage through one of them and read it to Dipper. 

He'd read a poem about Dipper...to Dipper...

'Oh my god.'


	3. Chapter 3

'Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out.' Wirt chanted in his head.

Wirt tried to stay calm, he really really tried. He was only taking is crush up to his room, no big deal. It was such a regular thing- not intimate at all- especially not to Wirt. 

Nope. Not at all. 

He's had plenty of people in his room. 

Dipper was right behind Wirt, they were standing outside his door. They'd been standing for about a minute straight. 

"Are you gonna open it or?" Dipper puffed. 

"Y-Yeah." Wirt creaked, "of course I am." He reached a sweaty palm up to his doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door open; a broken gust of air leaving his lips. 

Wirt immediately wanted to die. His eyes hyper-focused on everything in his room, his face scorched in embarrassment. His room was a nice neutral brown, the walls covered in polarized pictures and portraits he painted. Wirt glanced over his shoulder to Dipper; who was pushing last Wirt to actually get inside the room. 

"I like your room, it's pretty." Dipper grinned, running his hand along a painting of a girl. 

It took everything inside of Wirt not pull Dipper's face to his and kiss him. "T-thanks."

"Your desks a mess, though." Dipper pointed at the piles of crumpled up paper with a teasing smile. 

Wirts face flushed. "S-sorry." 

They both stood in silence, Wirt struggling with something to say and Dipper looking up at him patiently. That was another thing Wirt swooned over; how short Dipper was. He was a whole head shorter than Wirt, if not shorter. 

Dipper hummed and moved over to Wirts bed, sitting down crisscrossed. "So...are you gonna show me the poem?" 

Wirt jumped back. "Yeah- Yeah of course. That's why we're here." He laughed awkwardly. Now for the hard part; finding a poem. He had to find one that wasn’t obviously Dipper, that’s not too hard, but he also had to find one that he thought Dipper would like. That’s the hard part. He shifted unusually towards his desk; his fingers clammy and his face red. Wirt tried not to show how uncertain his whole body was as he reached into his desk drawers. 

Wirt decided the best thing he could do was; close his eyes, take in a low breath, and pull out a poem at random. When his fingers touched the soft paper he grabbed it and turned towards his bed. Wirt opened his eyes and looked down at the scratchy writing in his hands. He didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about the tea stains at the bottom of the paper before Dipper excitedly jumped off the bed, skipped over to the desk, and looked into the drawer filled with poems. 

“Wow! That’s a lot of poems, can you read them to me, too?”

Wirt screeched, heaving the drawer closed and laughing a bit too loud. “Aah-ahaha. Maybe for another day.”

Dipper looked up at Wirt alarmed, an almost hurt look on his face. It was quickly replaced with his regular wide eyes and a massive smile. “Perfect.” 

And then again- the whole world seemed to disappear and Dipper was the only thing in focus. The way his curls shone in the afternoon light coming from Wirts windows, and the way the light captured every freckle on his perfectly round face. He seemed to be getting closer; almost like he was leaning in. Wirts face flickered once more- he was honestly surprised it could get any hotter. He glanced down at Dipper's lips; a perfect pink. 

“Poem time.” Dipper giggled, making room on the desk for him to sit at. He jumped up onto the desk, crossed his ankles, and tilted towards Wirt.

Wirt coughed. “Y-Yeah. Okay so- please don’t make fun of it...o-or me, for that matter. I will be frank with you, I just haven’t really gotten into the headspace I need for writing and I’ve been distracted so they haven’t come out the way I wanted them-”

“Wirt, I’m not going to make fun of you.” The way Dipper spoke brought Wirt to his knees, it felt so real and so...just so real. “I've never heard your writing, but I have heard other students talk about how good you are and I...I just want to see it for myself...” 

That’s when Wirts brain stopped functioning. He felt like the gods were looking down at him in admiration. “So,” Dipper looked down sheepishly. “Can you please read it?” 

Dipper wanted Wirt to read him his poetry. He didn’t want to wait until he had to read it in front of the whole class. That’s what he wanted- he wanted this private moment between the two. 

Or so that’s what Wirt was telling himself so he wouldn’t pass out. 

He took in a deal breath and began to recite. 

“With such beauty.

How I wonder what it’s like to touch that delicate skin.”

Of course, he chose a poem about Dipper's skin! Wirt tried not to sound surprised as he read his writing. He glanced up at Dipper; who was looking at Wirt with such awe. 

“How I wish to run my shaky fingers against   
Your honey hair.”

Fuck. 

“I hold you with such beauty,   
That I’m afraid you won’t see me. 

Afraid I’m nothing but a leaf floating   
In your river of thoughts. 

Only Something in the back   
of your tongue   
That you can never quite understand. 

Afraid that your beauty is too much, and   
That I am not enough.

You hold such beauty.”

Wirt really couldn’t have picked the worst poem in the world. He remembered writing this in one of his first creative writing classes. He didn’t even realize it was about Dipper until he put down his pen. Wirt nervously glanced up at the boy in question, his heart pounding faster than it ever had. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t fumble his poem. He read it in a cool and smooth tone. 

Dipper was looking at him with curious eyes. Like he was still taking in every word that he had just heard. “Who’s it about?” 

Wirt blinked. “H- what do you mean?” 

It was such an innocent question, really, but Wirt felt like the world was against him.

Dipper rolled his eyes, a small smirk on his face. “Who’s the poem about?” He asked again. 

Wirts breath clamped. He couldn’t tell Dipper that the poem was about him, he would rather die than do that. 

’Just tell him that you wrote it forever ago and it was about an old crush.’ he thought to himself. He held the poem in his hand, crumbling it a bit more with the pressure of his fingers. Dipper was looking right at Wirt, almost like he was studying him.

“Uh- this girl I have a crush on.” Wirt panicked. He could have sworn he saw Dipper's shoulders slump and his eyes dim down. Wirt didn’t know why he said what he said, he panicked and it was the first thing that came to his mind. 

The two boys stared at each other for a while. Wirt didn’t want to be the first one to talk, he didn’t know what to say. He knew coming up here was a mistake, he knew something was going to go wrong. 

Wirt honestly didn’t know how this could get any worse. 

“Oh.” Dipper blinked back, moving his eyes down to his shoes. “Who’s...who’s the girl?” His voice sounded almost defensive and sad. 

Again, Wirt panicked. And again, he said the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Mabel.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem in this chapter is not mine!!! It’s a poem by Nira called “My fingers are sticky with your milk and honey” I found it on google !!! I’m not very good at writing poems so when I need an actual good poem I’ll find one online and credit the OG writer!!

"His sister!?" Greg cried out. 

Wirt was currently on his bed, settling on the same spot Dipper was sitting at not even ten minutes ago. After Wirt had, shockingly, expressed feelings to the love of his life on how he had a fixation on his sister, Dipper got up, told Wirt he'd see him at school, and then walked out of the room. Two minutes later Greg smashed through Wirts door and demanded answers. Wirt had admitted to having a crush on Dipper; "well, obviously." Was Greg's reaction.

Wirt clenched one of his pillows and moaned into it. 

"Wirt," Greg sough, putting his hands on his hips and shuffling over to the bed. "Dear brother o' mine-"

"Don't patronize me." Wirt sighed. He felt bad- no scratch that. He felt tragic. His face burned with disgrace and embarrassment, it got hotter when he thought about the look on Dipper's poor- perfect face. 

The second Wirt said the name, Dipper's eyes dropped. His shoulders hunched forward, his arms sagged, and his perfect, peach-colored, gorgeous lips quivered. He had jumped off the desk, his eyes still on the floor, and his small voice shook as he said his goodbye. 

"I don't even know the meaning of the word." Greg cracked up.

Wirts mind never left Dipper. "What am I going to do, Greg?" 

"Tell him how you feel." Greg shrugged. 

"No! I can't do that, then I'll look like a bigger idiot!" Wirt groaned into his pillow, pushing his face deeper into the cool fabric. "He looked so upset," he shot his head up. "Why did he look so upset?" 

Greg only stared at his older brother with interest. "Are you serious," Wirt shrugged, "brother, my dear, smart brother, put two and two together." 

"Greg I don't know what you're talking about." 

With a final sigh, Greg pushed himself up from the bed. "You are unbelievable." And with that he left Wirts room, softly closing the door behind him. Wirt was left with his thoughts.

What did Greg mean? Did he know why Dipper was so upset? 

"He's probably just really protective over Mabel..." Wirt stared off into space. "Yeah...let's go with that." 

—-

Wirt woke up with a newfound confidence- that entirely toppled the second he walked into his writing class. He had written a new poem to read out to the class- that wasn't about Dipper! 

As always, he was the first one there. 

"Good morning, Wirt." Mrs. Tally called out to him. "I'm excited to hear your poem today." 

Wirt only nodded, taking his seat in front of her desk. He glanced over at Dippers' seat. "I've been having writer's block..." 

"Oh, really?" Mrs. Tally got up from her desk and stepped around it, lifting herself up onto her desk; crumbling paper under her weight. "Coincidentally, that's what our lecturing point will be about tomorrow. You wanna have a head start?" She cocked her head, giving Wirt a soft smile. 

"I'm good, I'll learn with the class." As Wirt finished his sentence, the bell rang and students began to fill the halls. Mrs. Tally nodded, walking over to her whiteboard and writing in big, cursive letters; Poetry Reading. 

Wirt kept his head down, glaring intensely at his book bag. The sound of students talking and filling the room made his head throb. He knew he had to see Dipper today, Wirt knew he had to stare into those beautiful eyes and lie to him about his love life. 

He made the mistake of looking up to the door; Dipper and Mabel were standing outside the hall having an intense conversation. Dipper was wearing black sweats and a white hoodie, his hair was obviously not brushed, but only patted down. That's the most casual Wirt had ever seen him. 

Wirt couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew it wasn't good. Mabel's long hair was pinned back with butterfly clips, she had on a black satin cami over a white long-sleeved turtle neck, tucked into tight high waisted jeans, and black combat boots. Her face was scrunched up in worry, Wirt couldn't see Dippers face, but he could tell he was the one talking. Wirt felt like a stalker, he needed to stop staring at them, but he just couldn't. 

Mabels eyes widened, her lips parting open. She glanced inside the class and made straight eye contact with Wirt. 

Wirts cheeks burned, he looked down immediately. Praying that Mabel didn't notice his obviously staring at the twins. "Oh my god..." he mumbled to himself. The late bell rang and the last bit of students took their seats; as did Dipper. 

Wirt didn't want to look, but he knew he had to. Mrs. Tally didn't start class officially until around ten minutes into class- she needed to take attendance and get her stuff ready. Wirt could feel the heat come off of Dipper's body, he could see the fabric of his sweats from the corner of his eyes. Wirt took a deep breath and laid his head on his desk, turning to look up at Dipper; something they had gotten into the habit of doing in this first week. 

The second Wirts eyes met Dipper's face, his heart shattered into a million pieces. His cheeks were blotchy and red, as was his nose, his eyes were also lined with red. Dippers' hands were stretched out in his lap, his hands buried in his hoodie sleeves, his eyes were staring down at the desk.

"A-are you okay?" Wirt asked. Dipper slightly jumped back, looking down at Wirt. 

"Y-yeah...I just um- I feel sick..." He brought his arm up to his mouth and coughed into his elbow. 

"Is it a cold?" 

Dipper hesitated a nod. 

Wirt straightened his back, he was about to ask Dipper if he had taken any medicine in the morning before he left for school, but Mrs. Tally had stood up and began to talk. 

"Welcome my lovely writers," She smiled, bringing her hands together. "I had assigned you all to write your own poems, you didn't have to follow any guidelines or any format- you just wrote what came to your creative minds- the only rule was that it had to be short enough to read out loud." She began to walk around the classroom, she began to talk when she reached the back of the class. "You will all come up to the front and read your poems, I'll pick at the random..." the class groaned. "I know I know, that sucks- but it'll get you guys in the groove for the rest of the year." She stopped by Dippers desk. Wirt noticed that she had discreetly placed a small sticky note on his desk, Dipper quietly took it. 

"So...who will start?" 

The first one to go up was a jock- who surprisingly took the class because he really wanted to learn more about the art of writing. He wrote a poem about hard work; using an egg breakfast as the symbolism. Wirt zoned out after that, he was too curious about the note. 

He didn't have a chance to read it; Dipper was a really fast reader. 

"Okay, Wirt." At the sound of his name Wirts head snapped to the front of the class. Mrs. Tally was staring straight at him- she was now sitting at her desk. "Will you bless us with your poem?" 

Wirt bit back a blush. "Y-Yeah..." he glanced over at Dipper; his head was hung low and he always staring at his palms. Wirt stood up and walked over to the podium, the whole class was looking up at him- except for Dipper.

Wirts heart fell, he had remembered how excited Dipper was to hear his poem, but now he looked like he wanted nothing more but to leave the class. 'Man, me must be really sick...' Wirt thought. He took in a deep breath and began to recite his poem by memory.

"If I collected my tears in a bottle, left it to the sea's mercy   
Would you search for my tears among all that water?  
Or would you just laugh with your liquid eyes   
And lend me some milk and honey, milk and honey  
The constellation of freckles mapped on your nose  
Remind me of our milky way galaxy, of milk and honey"

Okay...so maybe he had written about Dipper. He couldn't help it, it was second nature to Wirt to write about the boy who made his heart blush. The class clapped once Wirt finished, Mrs.Tally gushed. 

"Oh my goodness, Wirt," she sighed. Wirt looked over at her, his eyebrows raised Anne he shrugged. "You never fail to amaze me..." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Tally." Wirt nodded, he walked away from the podium and took his seat next to Dipper; who was still looking down

"That was pretty..." Dipper mumbled, "Mabel would like it..." 

Wirt held back a groan. "T-thanks..."


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are idiots omg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted :)

The sound of Patrick Page's deep and sultry voice rippled throughout Wirts car, he had his hand sticking out the window, allowing the air to wrap around his numb fingertips. Despite the cold, he had the windows rolled down just a bit. Beatrice, his best friend since the second grade, was sitting on the passenger seat, trying to push her seat further back.

She slammed her hand against the dashboard and groaned.

"Dude! Get rid of this piece of crap and get a new car! And take this shit off!" she dramatically shoved her open hand to Wirts radio.

"Okay, first of all," Wirt pointed a finger at his friend, turning his attention away from the road for a split second to give her a harsh look. "Lucy is not a price of crap, okay? She's my baby." He ran a hand over the steering wheel. "Second, so what she has a little problem? And third- you dare insult Patrick Page?"

Beatrice scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I do. And 'a little problem'? Wirt, the car wouldn't even turn on! She had to get jump-started with Coach Johns truck." She tried again with her seat, letting out a triumphant laugh when it finally slid back. "It was so embarrassing."

"You can always get a ride from, I don't know, any of your brothers." Wirt pointed out.

He did have to agree with Beatrice, though. It was pretty embarrassing.

\-----

The rest of the school day went by as usual. Wirt wondering the halls thinking about Dipper and his poems, hiding from Mabel when he even thought he would bump into her, awkward stares between him and Dipper. The usual. When the final bell rang, he went to his locker and met up with Beatrice. They both walked to his old, beat up, red pickup truck.

He turned the key once, nothing happened, he tried a second time, nothing happened.

His engine sputtered and shook.

"It's dead." Beatrice had groaned.

Everyone around the parking lot was staring at them. Beatrice had her head banging against the window, and poor Wirt kept testing his luck. He waved at the people driving and passing by him. The whole ordeal didn't embarrass him, people knew about his truck. Everyone in the school had even brought it up to him. What did embarrass him was when he saw Dipper walk down the parking lot with Mabel hooked to his arm, staring at him trying to start up his car that clearly would not. The small smile tugging at the corner of Dippers' round lips made Wirts face flush. He dropped his head down and hit the horn. His body, along with Beatrice, jolted back in surprise. That's when Wirt heard a knock on the side of his window, he grasped the handle and began to roll it down.

It was Coach Johns.

\-----

"They all have football workouts after school. You know this." Beatrice lifted her legs and placed her combat boot covered feet on the dash. Wirt swatted them away. "So how'd the poetry read go?"

Wirt glanced at his friend, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat. "About that..." he said.

"Oh my god." Beatrice sighed, throwing her head back.

"There's something I haven't told you yet..." Wirt took a left turn, they were almost home. "You're staying for dinner, right? I'm cooking."  
"Where's mama Wirt?"

"She's gone with dad to a business meeting in New York, won't be back until next week." Another turn. Wirt could see the cluster of homes. "You can stay the night, too."

Beatrice pondered for a moment. "Yeah, alright. I'll get my stuff after dinner."

Wirt could now see his house. He began to slow down, ready to turn into his driveway when he saw an all to familiar pair of cars parked beside the garage. A slick black Nissan and a blue Chevy cruise. "Noooo." Wirt silently yelled, pulling into his driveway.

"The twins are here."

"Yes Bee, I can see that." Wirt groaned, putting his car in park. He slammed his head against the wheel and, again, pushed on the horn.

Beatrice reached over and pulled back on his collar, lifting his head and stopping the beeping. "What's going on? You're usually pretty excited about seeing Dipper." She winked.

Wirt let out another groan. Slamming his head down- this time on the steering wheel. His voice came out muffled, there was no point in hiding what he'd done. Rip it like a bandaid; "I told Dipper I have a crush on his sister."

The car was completely silent. The low hum of Patrick's voice echoed through the car. Wirt turned his head to look at his best friend. Her eyes were blown wide, lips puckered, and arms pushed straight smoothing down her pink dress.

Beatrice looked at Wirt. Then she reached to the radio and turned up the volume. She began to quietly sing the lyrics. Her voice came out exactly the way Wirt was feeling; shaky and nervous. "Hey, little songbird, let me guess...he's some kind of poet and he's penniless..."

Wirt threw his had back, a long groan leaving his lips. "Oh my god!"

This was weird.

Very weird.

The two didnt even have a chance to slither by the twins before Greg caught a glimpse at them. Now all five of them were in the small living room, no one spoke but Greg. Dipper didnt even look up from his spot on the couch- Beatrice had shoved Wirt right beside Dipper before he could find an excuse to get out of there- he was staring down at his feet, Wirt watched them bounce. Mabel was sitting criss-cross in front of the coffee table, observing as Greg went on and on about the anatomy of a frog, Beatrice was sitting on the other side of the coffee table, nodding her head and gasping when appropriate. And then there was Wirt. Sitting next to Dipper was probably the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to him. The couch was already a bit too small, even for the family. Dipper was practically sitting on Wirt’s leg. He could feel the heat radiating off of Dipper's body. It made him dizzy.

Wirt’s other leg was bouncing, his hands grasped together and trembling on his lap. He would sneak a glance at Dipper every few seconds, and each time made him shake more and more. 

They were so damn close.

Dipper’s face was hidden behind his mop of curls, but Wirt could still see how red his cheeks were, and the way the warm color brought out the glow of every single freckle on his cheeks and nose. He was bitting down on his lips, giving them the perfect shade of pink.

“No way!” Beatrice gasped, at the same time Mabel said ‘Woah’.

“I swear!” Greg smiled, “It’s true!”

Wirt looked over at the two, both girls looked completely invested in whatever it was Greg was yelling. They started to ask questions and throw in little comments. His attention went back to Dipper when he felt a light tap on his knee.

He looked down and saw Dipper staring right up at him, his eyes big and glossy, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He looked so innocent it almost killed Wirt. The look was doing things to him. “You okay?”

He's never really thought about Dipper in any other way but romantically. But the way he was looking up at him. God. And the way his eyebrows furrowed and his face burned with the most perfect shade of red not to mention the lip biting and the eyes. It was too much for Wirt's poor brain. 

Wirt blinked. “Huh?”

Dipper looked away, his face growing a shade darker. “Your leg,” he glanced back up before quickly looking down. “It’s shaking really bad, so are your hands...are you okay?”

“I- uh- yeah...just a bit nervous?” Wirt tested.

“Oh… is it because of Mabel?”

‘No.’ “Yes.” Wirt spat out before he could stop himself.

Dippers’ eyes fluttered, he took a deep breath and nodded. “Oh.”

Wirt’s face went classic red. “N-no I- what I mean is- I mean.”

“Wirt!” Beatrice squealed, clapping her hands together and occupying everyone's attention. “Why don’t you go and cook dinner?” She smiled.

“But it’s only 4-” Greg began.

“Now!” She interrupted.

Wirt shot up, a bit dazed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mabel stood up, flattening down her sweater. “Make enough for us, too,” She grabbed Dipper’s arm, pulling him up and shoving him towards Wirt. The two boys bumped arms. “Why don’t you go help him?”

Dipper’s eyes shot open. “Mabel-”

“Beatrice!” She ignored, “do you have something you need to do?”

“Why yes, I do.” Beatrice grabbed a hold of Greg’s hand- who looked just as confused as Wirt. “I need to go home and get some clothes. Come with us?”

“Of course!”

Both Dipper and Wirt stood there, trying to get either of the girl’s attention, but it was no use. 

The girls grabbed their backpacks and marched out the door with Greg traveling close behind.


End file.
